


Feathers and Paper Wings

by dutiesofcare



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dinosaurs, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Picnics, Twelve and Clara at the Mesozoic Era having a picnic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 07:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13429980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutiesofcare/pseuds/dutiesofcare
Summary: Clara and Twelve go to the Mesozoic Era for a picnic and they almost cause an evolutionary disaster when a pterodactyl flies off with Clara’s tuna sandwich.





	Feathers and Paper Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This is based from a line in the Titan Comic 'School of Death', where Clara states to her students that she almost caused an evolutionary disaster when a pterodactyl flew off with her tuna sandwich.

Clara departed the TARDIS with ecstatic steps, being welcomed by the warm and humid breeze – too much like walking into a sauna. She was glad to be wearing jeans shorts and a white cotton blouse, matching her black vans. Although the Doctor had cursed her to be bitten by all kind of pre-historic mosquitos and die from the most hideous diseases, he still had given her a bottle of repellent.

Her small steps caused him to bump into her, almost making him trip. “ _Clara_! Would you mind? I’m a little helpless here!”

Throwing her fists in the air, she moved aside, suspiciously watching him as he stumbled across the dark earth beneath him, his feet too slow to follow the speed of his mind. She cleared her throat, aiming to attract his attention, “Want a little hand there?”

He scoffed, arching his head so he could see better from behind the huge basket he carried in his arms. “Why, so you’ll drop our lunch with those clumsy hands of yours? I think I’ll pass, thank you very much.”

She rolled her eyes, “Because _I’m_ the clumsy one.”

As soon as she had jinxed it, the Doctor fell over a big rock on his way and landed on his stomach, all the contents inside the woven container then scattered across the ground.

Clara could swear she had heard a muffed _Clara_ coming from him as she rushed to help him. She helped him roll to his side, only then realizing the amount of dirt covering his face and his clothing. Her lips frowned in attempts of keeping her laughter to herself.

“ _Clara!_ Our lunch! It’s all ruined!” he cried like a baby, eyes wide in fear of the scolding _he knew_ he was about to get from her.

She lent him her arm to help him into a sitting position. “Don’t you worry. I foresaw something like that was very bound to happen, so I made sure to double pack everything.”

His vision at last noticed all their food wrapped in some bright silver plastic, protecting them from all the germs and bacteria they were bound to meet in the ground. He felt tears of joy filling his eyes, “Aren’t you a life saver, Clara.”

Rather than helping him to his feet, she busied himself with collecting the food from the ground and throwing them back into the basket. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’re only glad my actions saved you from all the lecture you were bond to receive.”

The Doctor stumblingly managed to find his way up. He tapped his clothes in attempts of cleaning himself up. “Can’t I just be grateful that, for once, we’re actually going to enjoy a full meal without any disturbance?”

“You’re incapable of showing such a feeling,” she hissed, smirking with the corner of her lips. Unlike him, she held the basket by its grip. “Come on, let’s find a nice meadow to set up our picnic.”

He nodded and followed her through the hard forest, believing her to know her way around just like he did. He tried to take the picnic casket from her a couple of times, only to receive a smack in the fist at each attempt, until he completely gave up.

It was a long walk until they reached a suitable grassy field. There were two sauropods feasting near the river bank, alongside a few feathered dinosaurs freely running across the grassland. Although they couldn’t see them, the sound of whisking wings could be easily heard from somewhere in the sky, like feathers and paper wings dancing in the air.

Clara dropped the container to the ground, enjoying the sight ahead of her. Apart from the long extinct animals, the water flow was clear as a mist and sang to them; the grass was green and trimmed by herbivores; the sky was blue and clear of any clouds. It was _beautiful_. “You think this is a safe place to have our picnic?”

“Of course,” he consented, placing his hands on his hips and _almost_ regretting to be wearing a velvet coat in such an atmosphere – but his Time Lord superiority wouldn’t allow him to confess he was _hot_. “Dinosaurs are rather calm creatures. Unless we come across dromaeosaurs, we will feast happily and peacefully.”

She eyed him cautiously, “And if we do?”

He cleared his throat, diverging his glare away from her. “Then we must run for our lives. But let’s not dwell on fear and enjoy our meal.”

Her jaw fell down as he calmly walked a few steps ahead, moistening his index with this saliva and sticking it high in the air, checking if the air humidity and the ambient temperature was right for their lunch date. He showed his approval by turning around on his heels and providing her with the biggest and creepiest smile.

Clara alarmedly made her way to him. His overly happy expression was her only incentive to lay the basket in the floor and pull out a big plaid blanket, stamped with red and white lines. She covered the grass underneath them with it, falling on her knees above it.

He followed her down, messily displaying his legs above the sheets. She could swear his eyes’ bright increased when she started to flaunt the food she had meticulously prepared in front of them. “God, I’m starving.”

She chuckled, serving each of them a cup of orange juice. “Good thing your eating needs doesn’t match your _sleeping_ needs.”

He took a prolonged sip of his drink, “Don’t be silly, Clara. I need something to gain my energy from. You might be surprised, but my Time Lord metabolism doesn’t prevail me from _starving_ to death. I would just regenerate until I ran out of lives.”

Clara craved her teeth into an apple. “You might trade your energy source from food to _sleeping_ once in a while, you know. Just for my sake. Hovering around my bed to pass the time is _really_ creepy.”

The Doctor unmercifully yanked the apple from her hand and took a bite himself. “You’re overreacting, Clara. I just hover around you while you sleep because you look _strangely_ cute while doing so. Really, you look so peaceful it brings serenity to my own restless mind.”

“My state of peacefulness is contradicted by my fists on your face every time you scare me to death by waking up to you lurking _inches_ away from my face,” she muffed underneath her breath, not expecting him to hear her. He didn’t seem to pay her much attention, anyway.

He threw the remaining stem of the apple far away into the horizon, believing it would eventually grow into another big tree. He even considered for a moment he might have been the creator of the apple species. He was soon, however, kicked out of his daze as a flying sandwich came towards him. He unwrapped it from its plastic, “Ooh, what do we have here.”

“Tuna sandwich, your favorite,” she elaborated, landing on her back to the floor and enjoying the sun on her skin, her own grinder resting in her belly. “At least it was until the last time I checked. You change your favorites so often it’s _impossible_ to keep track of them.”

We surely enjoyed the smell of the grilled fish coming from it. “Didn’t I tell you? I had the most _wonderful_ Hythins sandwich just the other week, and it has absolutely topped my love for tuna sandwiches.

“ _You’re_ impossible,” she grunted, closing her eyes. As she did, the sound of hastening wings grew stronger in her ears, but she didn’t provide it too much thought.

“This stuff is excellent, though,” he argued, mouth full of bread to the point it obstructed the passage of his voice, “Are you going to have yours?”

His enquiry was the only thing that caused her to open her sight to the environment once more. At the immediate sound of his voice, she leaned on her elbows, “Hm? Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Clara had her arm midway to hand him her snack when a pterodactyl threateningly flew in their direction. With a squeal of both terror and surprised, she immediately jerked down in attempts of protecting herself, hiding her head between her limbs and hanging her hands high above her skull in the process. The Doctor just whirred his sonic screwdriver in the air in attempts of scaring the animal away, but to no success.

The reptile only left them alone when it yanked Clara’s tuna sandwich from her hands and fled away until it disappeared in the horizon.

The moment they were out of eminent danger, the Doctor lowered his defense and saw a petrified Clara standing next to him. He rushed himself to her side, “ _Clara!_ Clara, are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

It was still a few moments until her muscles untensed up. “My… My lunch. It’s gone.”

At her statement, the Doctor grabbed her by the wrists in full despair. “ _What_?! Your _tuna_ sandwich?! No, this can’t be happening…!”

Her fists would soon become red from the tight grip around them. “Doctor, chill. I’ll make you another one when we get back to the TARDIS if you’re _that_ hungry.”

He was completely oblivious to her comment. “If that pterodactyl eats your sandwich, your _tuna_ sandwich, Clara, we might be on the edge of an _evolutionary_ disaster.”

Clara had to jump on her feet in order to not lose his running self from out of her sight. “Doctor! It’s just a sandwich! What harm can it possibly done? It’s going to be eaten and it’s going to turn into feces!”

He trusted her to be following him, not bothering himself to turn around. “Well, I’m not willing to find you. Are you? Because we could very well hop back into the TARDIS and land in a very modified 21st century London than the one you’re familiar with.”

Clara wrinkled her nose in the air, dreaded by the thought of giant lizards walking the Earth rather than the common human. “Where did he go, again?”

He froze in his tracks by the time he reached an _incredibly_ giant tree. “Up there.”

She almost bumped into him at his unexpected stop. “And you’re suggesting we climb… this?”

“I’m sorry if I left my mechanical wings in the TARDIS, Clara. Do you have a better idea?” he roared, calculating with his mind the distance between the ground and the lowest branch and the probability of death if they dared to fall down.

Clara bit down hard on her lip, “Well, I’m—”

“Shut up and give me your foot,” he demanded, too impatient to hear her suggestion. He was already dropped to his knee and holding his palms flat for her to step in.

“Why must I be the one to go first?” she squinted, voice higher pitched than before.

He gave slight slaps to her ankle until she placed one of her soles at his hand. “You’re small. You’ll never be able to jump high enough to reach that branch on your own if I go first.”           

“Any remarks on my height will not be appreciated,” she mumbled, holding hard to his hair as he rose her in the air. She had a hard time on balancing himself on his shoulder and clinging into the thick wood of the tree, hugging it tightly as she threw her legs onto it. Soon, she sat in the branch as if she was riding it.

The Doctor quickly met her up there, rolling his eyes at the sight of her perfectly resting against the trunk. “This isn’t the time or the place to nap, Clara. Hurry, we must save the natural course of evolution before it’s too late.”

They silently climbed through the crown of the tree, the Doctor always one branch higher than her, but always checking and helping her when her lack of height got in the way – but he never once made a comment on it, under the threat of death. His eyes were wide and searching for the reptile around them.

Clara cussed beneath her breath every time she would get cut or scratched, her outfit of choice definitely not being suitable for that occasion. She would most likely have to discard her clothes, given their ripped and dirty state. Regardless, she was struggling to keep up with the Doctor’s pace.

He placed his index finger against his lips, indicating her to be silent, and waited for her to reach him. From their place, they could hear the bickering and singing of animals nearby. “There. A pterodactyl nest.”

She rested her chin against his shoulder pad, clearly out of breath. “The mother’s going to feed my sandwich to her babies. Adorable.”

“Adorable, indeed,” he grunted, “But we’ll have to stop it anyway. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“Why do I sense I’m not going to like this plan.”

“You’re not,” he rightfully nodded. “You’re going to distract the mother. Make yourself a threat to her babies, make her fly towards you to merciless kill you. While you’re busy creating interference, I’ll run to the nest and grab the tuna sandwich and save the future.”

Her face was written in disbelief. “Why must I be the bait?! Besides, what makes you so sure they haven’t already eaten it?”

“Because I’m taller, I won’t risk not being able to climb up there. Really, Clara, we’ve been through this already,” he groaned, “Besides, I can see the bright silver plastic you wrapped around your lunch from here.”

She took a deep breath. “What if the pterodactyl mother _does_ end up killing me?”

He merely shrugged it off, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Go now.”

Silently cursing him in all the languages she could, Clara followed his instructions. She steadied herself in her feet at a branch she judged the mother would see her, and yelled, “Hey there, you big… thief… pterodactyl!”

The dinosaur howled loudly at the sight of Clara, so ferociously she was sure she could be thrown off at the sound alone. To her dismay, it started walking towards her, jumping from branch to branch, its wing widely spread in an intimidating way.

“Great,” Clara cried, realizing to herself she was about to live the remaining of her life running away from a long time extinctic animal. She nervously dropped herself and started making her way down, pretty sure she would end up falling in her hurried acts.

The Doctor grabbed the opportunity and found himself standing just outside the nest. The babies were crying and he was quick to apologize, “I’m terribly sorry,” he took the sandwich in his hands, yanked the plastic off and shoved it down his throat. “Wouldn’t want anyone else to grab a hold of this.”

At the notion its children were no longer alone, the pterodactyl mother shrieked at the Doctor, desperately rushing back towards him to free the babies from the potential danger. Politely, the Doctor saluted the little dinosaurs off and started to make his way down as well, being incredibly faster than Clara at it.

He met her halfway down and grabbed her by the hand, forcing her to speed up. She couldn’t help but scream, “Where the hell is the sandwich?!”

“Ate it,” he simply stated, finally collapsing to his feet on the ground and standing his arms high to help her. His hands locked under her armpits and she was, then, on the floor as well. “Come on, we need to run before the pterodactyl starts hunting us again.”

With a quick nod of her head, they pathed back to their picnic site, where they packed their stuff in a rush. The Doctor carried the basket as they found themselves into the woods where they had originally come from. They only allowed themselves to relax when they were sure the dinosaur could no longer track them under the great amount of tree crowns.

“You,” she accused, between catching breaths, “Are the death of me.”

He leaned his hands on his tights, his lips half opened from the exhaustion of their race – although he would never publicly admit it. “Am not. As far as I can see, you’re still very much alive.”

Lacking the patience she required to deal with him, Clara smacked the back of his head, getting a yield of pain from him. “That was a figure of speech, you moron.”

The Doctor tiredly exhaled, “How was I supposed to know that?!”

“By using you one for allegedly twenty-seven brains,” she snapped, slow and gradually picking up their rail back to the TARDIS. “I guess we can scratch out the Mesozoic Era from your list of places to go.”

Clumsily throwing the basket over his shoulder, he led his other hand to her waist, guiding her through the bosk. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s not like we’ve been banned from here. Yet.”

Her forehead turned into lines of pouting, “That pterodactyl has most likely called its pterodactyl friends and made a pterodactyl police task to look for us. They will feast upon us if they ever find us again.”

He made a face at the thought. “Then _they_ will be the death of you, not me.”

Clara rolled her eyes to the point they lodged in the back of her head. Disregarding, her lips still cracked into a small hint of amusement. “Shut up.”

The TARDIS finally emerged in their vision field and the Doctor could already picture the warm bath and the nice meal he would prepare for her, before she dozed off from exhaustion next to him in bed whilst he read out loud some poetry. He pulled her closer to him, “Yes, ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback here or on twitter (dutiesofcare) is much appreciated :)


End file.
